


Hardly Sleeping

by Lakeylou



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakeylou/pseuds/Lakeylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bea returns from hospital slightly worse for wear... where is Allie? Post season four. Ballie!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardly Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction for Wentworth. Hope it's okay! Disclaimer: I don't own Wentworth or the characters.

“Welcome back.” 

Bea lifts her head. Her hands curl into loose fists on her lap and silver handcuffs circle her wrist. She feels the small bone on the top of each wrist ache against the cool metal. She feels the tightness around her stomach. She feels _nervous_. It will be good to get the handcuffs off; the bandages will stay a while longer. Bea lets a breath of air escape between her lips as she stares at Vera. She blinks, and a red curl of hair falls over her eye. She shakes her head to remove it, shakes her head to rid of this nervousness. Two guards stand next to the governor. They tower over Vera, but the woman is stronger than she knows. Mr. Jackson stands on her left, shoulders back and set. He nods at Bea. Four sets of eyes are all on her. It makes her feel uneasy. The concern - and is that relief? – written on Vera’s face makes her glance away.

So here she is.

The solid walls.

The cracks in the concrete.

The teal jersey baggy on her slim form.

They don’t hurry her out of the transfer van. They are all aware of her injuries. Everyone in Australia probably is by now; it has been all over the news. Vera has been stressed; she has lost sleep and missed lunches and dinners daily. Joan Furgeson has exhausted her. But, finally, the women has been charged, convicted, and sent somewhere Vera has no interest in knowing where. Things are finally looking upwards for Wentworth prison and, with Bea Smith back, Vera hopes to continue their unique partnership.

Bea wants to mutter a snarky remark, an _Oh, my very own welcoming committee. You shouldn’t have._ She needs to break the ice that has frozen between them. This pity and guilt she feels exuding from them is awkward and unfamiliar.

Bea is not fragile.

No, she _is_ fragile and everyone knows it.

Her wavering gaze falls on the wheelchair and she lets out an amused huff. 

_You have got to be kidding me._

“Who’s that for?”

Vera looks at the wheelchair. Mr. Jackson’s hands circle the handles and he’s smiling at Bea like he knows what is coming.

Bea scoffs.

“We don’t need you being stubborn about this,” Vera tells her. “Let us help you get inside.”

“I can walk. Thanks.”

“You were only allowed out of hospital because you agreed to the strict recovery terms. This,” Vera responds, her hand gesturing towards the empty wheelchair, “Is one of them. The girls are all at lunch. Let us get you in discreetly.”

“Come on, Smith,” Mr. Jackson adds. He pushes the wheelchair closer to the van, makes it do a wheelie. “Your mates want to see you.”

Bea lets her head fall back against the wall of the van.

_Allie._

“Fine.”

She begrudgingly accepts the support out of the van. Will helps her into the chair with a hand on her upper arm. Bea twists in the seat to roll her eyes at Vera, but the skin on her stomach pulls and she gasps.

“You alright?”

Bea grits her teeth. She is not going back to that damn hospital. She craves some sort of normality, if that's what it's called in prison. She needs her friends, some company, people who know her. Hell, she needs Boomer’s crude jokes.

“Yep,” she lies, biting down on the inside of her cheek so hard she taste the tang of blood. “Fuck. I look ridiculous. I can walk.”

Vera looks down at her and smiles.

The handcuffs are removed.

* * *

 

Bea appreciates the low-key arrival. The halls are empty and the chatter of woman from the lunch room is in the distance. She is not ready to see the women again. She’d like to be at least walking unaided before she has to encounter anyone. Vera spends the trip walking beside her. She reminds Bea of her required medical visits and the care she must take with her injuries. They don't want her to get an infection. Bea barely listens but nods along at all the right times for Vera to think she is.

“And when I say bed rest,” Vera stops Mr. Jackson with a hand on his arm. She stands in front of Bea and looks down at her. “I mean it, Smith. Two weeks bed rest. You and the women in H1 with you will be brought your meals. You can eat in your area.”

“Fine by me.”

It is _more_ than fine if she is honest.

* * *

 

“Bea! Oh my god. Look, look, look, Maxie. It’s Bea.”

Bea lifts a hand to wave at her friends. They gather around her quickly, but give her the space she needs to not overwhelm her. Bea leans on the arm rests of the wheelchair and, thankfully, Mr. Jackson makes no attempt to stop her as she stands. She feels a little shaky on her feet, but Maxine is the first to her side.

“Thanks,” Bea smiles, swallows the  _I'm fine, i can do it myself_ that sits on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she loops an arm around Maxine’s waist, leans on her for support.

“So, what have I missed? How are you guys?”

“We are all fine,” Maxine replies, helping Bea over to one of the chairs surrounding the eating table. The girls' lunch trays are on there, but they have all been cleared of food.

“It’s you we’ve been worried about. You gave us quite a scare,” Maxine finishes.

Boomer pulls a chair out for Bea to sit in. The plastic screeches on the floor and Bea can't help but smile at the familiar noise. She's not sure why it's a comfort to her, being back in prison, but it's the people she tells herself. She has missed them. The nurses and prison guards at the hospital were friendly, but they weren't interested in her and she wasn't interested in them. She fought to stay alive for _these_ girls. She powered through her rehab to _see_ them again. Perhaps she's getting soft.

Boomers voice pulls Bea from her thoughts.

"Bloody 'ell.  We thought you were dead. That bitch the Freak stabbed you thir-”

“Booms love,” Liz shakes her head; her eyebrows narrow at the younger woman. “We don’t need the details. You need anything Bea? A drink?” She crouches down and kisses the side of Bea’s head. “It is good to see you.”

“I’m fine at the moment,” Bea gives Liz a small one arm hug. "Thank you.“

Bea looks towards Maxine again, lets her gaze travel the woman's face. "How are _you_ ,” she asks, puts emphasis on the pronoun as she tilts her head towards Maxine.

“Well,” Maxine lifts the edge of her head scarf. “I’m adapting to this. Things are going well the doctor says. I just have to keep fighting.”

"Which she's learned from you," Boomer adds, her smile growing into a grin.

Maxine nods.

Bea reaches a hand across the table; Maxine takes it and gives it a squeeze. Bea looks around H1; nothing is different here; a pack of Monte Carlo's sits on the kitchenette bench, the wrapper teared impatiently so the biscuits spill out. Bea smiles and looks towards Allie’s cell; the door is open. She looks towards her own cell; the door is shut.

Since arriving in H1 she hasn’t allowed herself to wonder why Allie is not here to greet her. They have had only one three minute phone call in the past seven weeks, but Bea still feels it, that connection with the younger woman; that soft and gentle love for her.

“… Is Allie at lunch?”

She goes for nonchalant, reaches for a leftover green bean on one of the lunch trays. She has no intention to eat it. Boomer clears her throat and quickly steps away from the table. Her hands fidget at her sides, picks at the crease in her pants.

“She’s sleeping,” Maxine responds softly, eyes Liz and then Boomer’s red face.

“Sleeping?” Bea questions. “Is she sick? Is she alright-”

“She is fine,” Liz quickly assures her. “Booms here thought she’d be helpful, and she slipped some sleeping pills into Allie’s drink.”

“Aw Bea,” Boomer quickly says, keeps her distance and begins to pace. “I tell you, she needed them. She’s been pacing around day and night! She hasn’t been sleeping. I did her a favour I reckon!”

“Sleeping pills?” Bea looks from Boomer to Maxine. "She hasn't taken any-"

"No," Maxine shakes her head, immediately aware that Bea is going to say drugs. "She has kept well away from Tina and her crew."

“She is out like a light,” Liz smiles, sits in the seat next to Bea. “Look, I know the method was unconventional, but Boomer means well. Allie has been worried about you, love. She hasn’t been sleeping very well at all.”

“She’s had big blue marks under her eyes,” Boomer slides a finger under her left eye. “I just thought it had to be done. The only pills i had and I gave 'em to her."

Bea nods, surprised to find herself calm.

“How many?”

“Only two I swear. I just crushed them in her tea... I was doin' the right thing, wasnt I?”

“It’s OK, Boomer,” Bea tells her.

 

* * *

 

Bea opens the door to her cell and peaks her head inside. She leans against the door frame for a moment. Allie is on her bed, curled on her side. The side of her face is pressed deep into Bea's pillow. Bea shuts the door behind her and steps quietly over to the single bed. She pulls the blanket down by Allie’s bare feet up and over Allie’s waist. She sits down carefully to not move the mattress and lets her hand rest on Allie’s side. The blonde doesn’t move, and Bea can make out the dark ring of blue under Allie’s right eye. Boomer is right, she hasn't been sleeping. Bea presses her lips firmly together, desperate to not worry over Allie and wake her up. Allie's breathing is quiet, but steady in the small room and it slowly relaxes Bea.

She sits on the edge of her bed for two hours. A cup of tea is brought to her by Liz. She is not hungry yet so declines the food, but the doctors want her to keep her fluids up, so she drinks the mug of tea. She has to go to medical at four and, while she wants Allie to wake up so she can say _hey_ , she knows Allie needs the rest. Bea smiles down at the sleeping woman; Allie's lips have parted and her tongue darts out every so often to lick her lips. Despite Allie's lack of sleep, her cheeks still have their usual blush.

There is just something _warm_ about Allie that Bea loves. 

The phone call they were granted was brief but a balm to Bea. Hearing Allie's voice over the phone gave her that extra strength to demand her discharge from her white room in the hospital.

* * *

 

It is almost four when Allie rolls over. Her face scrunches up in pain, or disorientation, and Bea finds herself holding her breath when Allie groans and blinks awake. It takes a second or two for Allie to focus her gaze properly. But when she does her voice fails her on the one syllable name, cracks into a whisper.

“Bea.”

“Hey Allie.”

Allie rubs at her eyes with her fists and blinks again.

“Fuck. Am I dreaming?”

Bea smiles and shakes her head. “No, but you’re probably feeling groggy. Boomer gave you a couple of sleeping pills. You’ve been out for awhile.”

Allie sits up in a jolt and looks around the small space of Bea’s cell. She blinks again, reaches forward and pats Bea's thigh in a _is this real, are you real_ gesture. Bea stays silents, watches Allie's eyes begin to glass over as she adjusts.

“Hey… hey… Allie.”

“Bea.”

Allie is careful when she falls into their hug. She knows the wounds on Bea are severe and still healing.

Bea finds herself consoling a crying Allie, the younger woman wetting the upper sleeve of Bea's jersey. 

"I'm sorry," Allie chokes out a small laugh as she releases Bea. "I've just missed you."

Bea rests her forehead against Allie's. She rubs the pad of her thumb down Allie's cheek and smiles at her.

"I missed you too."

* * *

 

There is a knock on the door and both woman sit up properly. Bea calls out a  _come in_ and Vera opens the door.

"We've brought the nurse to you," Vera says, looking from Allie to Bea. The nurse walks in with a cart and Bea blinks her eyes in surprise. Vera is taking this very seriously, though she supposes she shouldn't really expect anything less from her; Vera doesn't need any more bad press.

"Novak, aren't you meant to be preparing dinner?"

"Ah, no," Allie shakes her head, her lips curving up into a smile. "I applied for paid leave from work, so I'm actually on vacation."

Vera cocks an eyebrow. "Your application has been denined, get to work."

Allie pouts and turns to Bea. 

"But she just got back."

"I'm sure you can manage two hours. You can eat dinner in H1." Vera responds. "Come on."

Allie reluctantly drags herself off the bed, brushes a hand over Bea's leg as she does so. 

"I'll see you soon," Allie says quietly, the displeasure of having to leave evident on her face.

"Allie," Bea says quickly, grabs Allie's hand. "When you serve up my plate, give me extra spinach."

Allie smiles.

* * *

 

“Do you think that now we're official, _official,_ ” Allie ask Bea as they lay in bed. "That we can request a double bed and a bigger room?"

Bea laughs and shakes her head.

"Perhaps."

Allie smiles and moves closer. "But I guess this bed means I get to be closer to you."

Bea presses a kiss to Allie's lips, pulls back to look at her properly in the dim light. She wants to wipe away the blue under Allie's eyes.

"You haven't been sleeping."

Allie shrugs.

"Allie..."

"I was worried about you."

"I don't want you to," Bea responds.

Allie frowns, runs the tip of her finger down the arch of Bea's neck.

"It's too late," Allie whispers. "It's what ya do when your in love."

"... I worry about you too..." Bea admits.

"Are you trying to tell me something here Bea?" Allie smiles, bites her lip at her teasing.

Bea presses her lips together and slants her eyes.

"I'm kidding," Allie grins.

"No," Bea swallows. "You're right."

Allie's eyes widen ever so slightly. 

"I love you." Bea says. "A lot."

* * *

 

"Can I?" Allie asks as her hands play with the hem of Bea's T-shirt. 

"Only if you sleep afterwards."

"Deal," Allie agrees, letting Bea roll on to her back. Bea pulls the shirt she wears up until it bunches just underneath her bra.

Allie's hands are hesitant, gentle as she brushes her fingers lightly over the bandages covering Bea's stomach. She stays quiet, her eyes not leaving the covered injuries.

Bea closes her eyes, feels an overwhelming amount of affection for Allie.

Allie leans down, presses her lips lightly against the bandages again and again and again until each spot has been kissed.

"Allie," Bea whispers, raking her fingers gently through Allie's hair. She feels like she might burst with emotion; the tenderness from Allie is too much, too good. 

Allie kisses her way up Bea's body, carefully pulls Bea's T-shirt back down, then tucks her head in the crook of Bea's neck.

"You okay?" Allie asks.

"Yeah."

Allie reaches down and grabs Bea's hands, brings it up between them.

"Go to sleep, Allie."

Allie grins against Bea's neck.

"I will."

* * *

 


End file.
